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A few hours later, Buffy woke up when the rain worsened, shivering from head to toe. She had fallen asleep next to the fountain, and was soaking wet. Cold and still miserable, she went back to her room, stripped off her drenched clothing and put on a pair of ratty sweats before climbing into bed. Even with the comforter and two wool blankets draped over her, she still couldn't keep her teeth from chattering.

Later that afternoon, William finally ran out of excuses not to go see the petite blonde. He collected a tray of food to bring to her from the kitchen, his mind settling on the daunting task he had before him. Over the course of three weeks, he somehow had to get her to fall in love with him. If she pledged her eternal love to him, the dark magic encasing this building would be destroyed and he would be free to walk out the front door, as if nothing had happened.

"Like a bleedin' fairytale" he muttered. Everything for the past hundred years had been a nightmare for him though, like something out of a horror story that he himself would never have believed before...well, before this. When he arrived at her room, he squared his shoulders and collected himself. Cool and aloof, he could do this, he thought. It would have been easier to do if she hadnt made him feel so alive. No matter how hard his heart was pounding though, he would stick to his guns. If distanced was what he had to be, he would do it. Or at least try. He raised his hand and knocked on the door, waiting for a moment. Deciding that an unemotional man would stand and wait, he entered.

"Well now, already waiting for me in bed? As much as you may need a good shaggin', I got better things to do, so you should just get up already." he sneered, setting the tray down on the bedside table. Stealing a glance at her prone form, his heart lurched in his chest. he forced all feeling out of his voice again. "M'not just standin here talkin to myself. Get outta bed, you bloody bint." He said, wincing when he realized he might have overdone it. He spun on his heel to march out, but stopped short when he heard her moan softly.

"Buffy?" he asked softly, walking towards the bed. Her flushed face was half hidden by the covers, but he could see the unnatural sheen of sweat on her forehead. "Buffy?" he asked again, leaning down and placing a hand on the girl's rosy cheek. "Cor, love, you are burning up!" he swore under his breath.

When he was young, his frail mother would take sick regularly, leaving only him to care for her. She would slip into a delirious fever for about a day, and then the fever would break by nightfall. This was different though. His mother's body would be hot to the touch, but Buffy's was even hotter. Knowing that he had to get her temperature down or risk losing her, he scooped up the young woman into his arms. Racing to the bathroom, he began running a lukewarm bath.

In her weakened state, she was completely oblivious to anything that was happening, so she gave no fight as he gently stripped off her clothing. He laid her down gently into the bath, leaning far into the tub so that her head rested upon his arm. With that one arm he supported her above the water, and with the other, gently stroked her face with a wet cloth. She muttered incoherencies, every so often thrashing about in a fevered delerium. William remained by her side though, washing her head, neck and shoulders in a desperate hope to drive the sickness from her body. Not long after, her body still, her lips moved.

"What is it kitten?" William asked, leaning in.

"Am I dying?" she whispered, her voice weak. "I feel so cold"

"No, little one. That just means your fever is breaking." He soothed, extracting his arm from underneath her and standing up. After fetching a towel, he lifted her from the tub and wrapped her in it. He carried her straight to the bed, and tucked her back under the sheets. When he noticed she was shivering though, something jolted him from within. Without a second thought, he removed his shoes and climbed into bed next to her, spooning up against her. Pulling the towel tighter around her, he slipped his arm under her head, and wrapped his other arm snugly around her.

As he relaxed next to her, he came to a startling revelation. He was supposed to get her to fall in love with him, yet somehow during that time, he had fallen for her. The young woman in his arms felt so frail, and every instinct of his yearned to protect her in every way. God, even in sleep she was mesmerizingly beautiful. He hated to see her so miserable, yet, even as unhappy as she was, she still shone a light in his life that cut through a hundred years of darkness. He knew then that, to have the love of this woman in his arms, he would suffer a hundred more deaths. At this moment, he felt more alive than he had before his death upon the altar.

"Buffy, you dont even know what you do to me" he whispered, planting a gentle kiss on her head before allowing himself to drift off to sleep beside her.



Warmth. That was what Buffy felt. Not like the fire that had been consuming her before, that had been searing her flesh and driving her nearly mad with the pain, but a gentle heat warming her aching limbs. Her lungs still burned, her head throbbed, and every breath was a struggle, but all that faded away when she tucked herself even closer to the warm body behind her. In her feverish state, she was unable to identify the person, but she didn't quite care. The protective arm that wrapped around her waist gave her a sense of safety that she had never before known. I must be dead, her muddled mind determined. The only thing that mattered was the angel behind her, giving her peace and keeping her safe. She drifted off once more into blessed sleep, a tiny smile gracing her pale lips.





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